


Forgiveness

by KitsuneMask



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Redemption, Sort Of, half character study and half redemption arc, speculations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 19:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneMask/pseuds/KitsuneMask
Summary: Forgiveness is a tricky thing. It can be given blindly, with false hope. It can be given without reason, without meaning. And, it can be given through recovery, through the persistence of change embodied in one's self.Or: Ryoken finds redemption.





	Forgiveness

There are things that Ryoken Kogami regrets.

There are many things that he cannot let go of, that his conscience can not, in any manner, let him settle back into the darkness of his mind.

He regrets becoming the leader of the Knights of Hanoi. He regrets listening to his father's words. He regrets sacrificing those closest to him time and time again, losing them in the void of his own reckless selfishness. He regrets calling the cops on his father. He regrets his path of destruction and chaos, regrets leaving a trail of blood in his path for "justice".

But, most of all, he regrets kidnapping the six kids whose lives he's changed for the worse. 

Even now, as he stands at the entrance way to a hotdog stand, watching as countless people step past him in a blur of action, he can't help but let his conscience pull and tug at him, making him relive through moments of the past in the worst way possible. He sees himself at the counter, alone, ordering a hotdog stand from Shoichi as he ruminates over his plans to eliminate Link VRAINS. He sees himself sidled awkwardly next to Yusaku at a table with Aoi Zaizen and Takeru Homura, the latter two offering him contemptuous glares as Yusaku tries to soothe their fears. He sees himself as a child holding a hotdog in his hands and restraining the tears in his eyes from falling, the screams of six kids and his father intermingling into one.

The present and the past blend into one flawless seam, a movie tape that ceaselessly rewinds and unwinds. Back and forth his memory moves, showing the times of his agony and the times of his bliss.

He sees himself sending Ghost Girl hurtling into a wall and watching as she crumples to the ground, crying in distress as she vanishes. He sees Playmaker jumping in to defend himself from an attack by an unknown assailant, the boy falling to his knees as he offers Ryoken a reassuring smile. He sees Blue Girl offering him the cold shoulder, Takeru offering him a shaky smile and a stuttering laugh, and Jin recoiling away from him as he gives his condolences. He sees himself closing the eyes of his pseudo-mother as she departs to the afterlife, her soul dragged to the heavens by a tower waiting. He feels a wave of heat burn his hand clean from his avatar, Blue Girl and Soulburner standing over him with their duel disks drawn as a man draped in shadows bears down upon them with flames in his hands.  

The movie continues on, rolling endlessly without credits, never ending but never beginning either.

Ryoken sees himself gathering together his family to retake the Ignis. He sees himself pulling Ai from Playmaker's duel disk, victory almost in his grasp before Playmaker pins him to the ground and loosens the AI from his grip. Ryoken sees himself baring his teeth at Yusaku, shouting words so potent with acid that they slowly begin to chip away at the confident exterior Playmaker clasps on to. He sees Ghost Girl and Blue Girl confronting him, eager to weasel out his motivations before he insists his intentions for aid. 

Like an ever-changing portrait, the world shifts in its wide array of colors, never focusing, but never blurring either. Stars paint the sky and the sun sits on the horizon and rain dapples the ground and clouds bleach the sky white. He sees faces, many faces, all of which he knows and all of which he doesn't. His family, those he's murdered and who came back to life, those whose lives he's never touched and those whose lives he had. The world before him is an endless line of strings tied to his fingers. Each string slithers out to wrap around someone else, binding them to him without his meaning to.

And, among all those strings is a string pulled taut and strong. A thick red string, thicker then all the others, spreads outwards to wrap around the wrist of one Yusaku Fujiki. The boy who proclaimed himself a hero. Playmaker, he called himself, in that alternate world where Ryoken spent so much of his time creating plots for the worse. Their relationship was complex; Ryoken preferred to think little of it past that of which had become established. Yusaku already knew who he was - had accepted him, denied him, and then come to stand on even grounds with him. Even as Yusaku proclaimed his highest praises for the "voice who gave him hope", the line between obsession and respect was a line that both of them teetered upon.

Ryoken, once upon a time, had hated Yusaku. Had watched as the boy who caused his father misery, who cost Ryoken his plans and ambitions, who'd single-handledly plunged his organization into chaos, stood before him and mocked him with "forgiveness". 

"I forgive you," Yusaku had told him, in the seclusion of a mansion overlooking the ocean alongside his guardian. "We don't have to fight. Please, let's just end this now."

And, to Ryoken, whose conscience ate at him like a leech to its host, such words were nothing more than spittle and fire. Even as Yusaku had offered him peace, offered him a way out from the duties which he'd enslaved himself to, Ryoken slapped away the hand that was offered to him and bared his fangs at the "peace" Yusaku had offered him.

"I regret saving you," he'd said in the interior of Link VRAINS, standing alone with Playmaker as the timer for the apocalypse counted down. "I regret sacrificing my father for you."

Such words were not said without the full honesty. Ryoken had meant what he'd said: if he hadn't let his guilt eat into him, he wouldn't have lost his father. If it wasn't for Ryoken's show of weakness, if it wasn't for his crippled sense of pity, he never would have lost what he most cherished.

But, then again, without his conscience, perhaps he wouldn't have gained the most important thing to him in the world.

"You kidnapped me," Yusaku would tell him the next time they meet, his green eyes lit up with a level of worship that sends Ryoken recoiling. "You were the one who started all of this."

Such words do not go without the formation of bile in his throat.

"And, yet, you don't seem to hate me."

Yusaku only offered back a smile. "It would be a lie to say that a part of me doesn't wish I hadn't met you, that a part of me wishes I could have continued on with my life and never let it go in the way the incident forced me to."

"Then let go of your hopes for me. I'm not the good person you think I am."

And, in the silence that followed, Yusaku's voice fluctuated with a kind of realization that had Ryoken's eyebrows raising. 

"I know."

The conversation ends with that. But, it became evident to Revolver that doubts have formed in Yusaku's mind and that the hope the boy has sunk his claws into has begun to fail him. Ryoken watches as his expression of worship falters, the endless respect Yusaku once held for his idealized self sinking into the abyss of realization. Ryoken doesn't know what has caused it, this nuance of a doubt, but he knows that its presence has him relieved and reassured.

Time flows on and, like a salmon swimming upstream, he pushes against the current, trying to reach his way to the place where he'll restart anew.

He watches as, one by one, his family is stolen away from him. He watches as Vyra falls to the ground, disappearing into bits and pieces that become trapped in a jar. He watches as Spectre lifts a hand poisoned with venom and then falls into a state of eternal rest. He watches as Faust and Genome try to protect him only to become bound in cages of burning electricity. Alone and without aid, Ryoken does the worst thing he thinks he can imagine:

Beg for the help of the very person whom he only means harm for.

Playmaker, at the protest of his companions, agrees to Ryoken's demands. However, the demands come with a heavy cost: in an ultimatum. If the boy gives his assistance, Ryoken has to disband Hanoi and relinquish any intentions of pursuit in regards to the Ignis. 

At a crossroads for the fourth time in his life, Ryoken accepts the contract offered before him. Saving humanity is one thing, but saving those he cares about most are another. He's sacrificed them once before; he's not willing to sacrifice them again. So, as he takes Playmaker's hand and signs the deal, he can't help but feel like he's betrayed in his trust to himself and his family. Him, working with his enemy? Him, giving up his one mission in life just because his conscience will not allow a betrayal of the people he cares for? It is simply unfathomable, even to himself.

However, as he watches Playmaker guide him forward, watches as the boy proclaims a future on the horizon and a dream to approach, he can't help but falter in his own motivations. As he meets Playmaker's companions, from the cautious Blue Girl to the apprehensive Soulburner to the cold-hearted Ghost Girl, he begins to learn more and more about the boy who's called him "hope". Playmaker, albeit a loner in his own rights, has amassed a following of people who've sworn loyalty to him and his cause. Like Ryoken, Playmaker has gathered his own kind of family to follow in his footsteps, appointing himself leader to a group of individuals with a goal all the same: to protect that which needs protecting.

And, perhaps, it was in that way that Ryoken realized they were similar. They both had people they cared about, goals they wanted to pursue, and they were both the leaders with the intent of changing the world's views of thinking. Ryoken hadn't realized so much about Playmaker when they'd stood on opposite sides of the dueling field. Now, as he forcibly integrated himself alongside Playmaker's group, Ryoken couldn't excuse the way his conscience bled from his heart, begging to tie up all the knots he'd left loose over the year.

And, tie up the knots he did.

As his family was rescued from the clutches of a group associated with the stars, Ryoken came to enforce the promise he'd entrusted with Playmaker. But, he didn't only give up his intent to capture the Ignises but also his intent to hate Playmaker as well. Under the guise of his guilt, he'd come to a compromise: they'd be allies. If Ryoken was forced to lose the element of his opposition with Playmaker, then he'd have no other choice but to declare himself a close ally of Playmaker's, if only to keep a close eye on the Ignises.

But...that was only what he told himself. As the passage of time thinned out, Ryoken found himself clutching onto strings that he'd previously let slip by him.

He made amends.

First, of course, to Ghost Girl. The woman had wanted nothing to do with him, intent on giving him the cold shoulder. He had bruised her ego, badly, and she wasn't going to let his apologies slip so easily. Even with a handsome sum awarded to her and a sincere apology of his behavior, it was hard to sneak under Ghost Girl's wounded pride, to dissuade her grudge against him. He'd said his dues though, earnestly, and, if she refused to accept them, he had no right to force her otherwise.

Second was Aoi Zaizen. Much like Ghost Girl, the girl stared at him with eyes made of ice, unwilling to forget and forgive for the experience of her coma. She had known he was behind it and, pinning him for the culprit, she'd made certain that he knew she was everything she detested. Still, he offered his apologies, only able to grant his sincerity when the girl had nothing to gain from the compensation of his wrong-doings. Progress had been made though; while Aoi didn't accept Ryoken, she grudgingly agreed to an alliance with him, if only because Playmaker urged her to.

Third, was to all the Lost Children minus Spectre and Playmaker. Jin, Takeru, and the other two, the boy and the girl...he made his amends by offering them whatever they desired, whatever was in his power to afford or to give. For Takeru, an apology was enough, if only because Takeru could tell of the firm beliefs of redemption Ryoken now carried. Jin, though fearful and easy to reject Ryoken's presence, had only accepted on the terms that compensation was provided to his brother, Shoichi, in the form of a summer cabin out in the country. The boy and the girl...well, they had snubbed Ryoken's apologies, but had accepted him all the same.

Fourth was Go. Though the man had suffered a defeat by Ryoken's hands, Go took Ryoken's apologies in stride, dismissing Ryoken's wrongdoings with a simple: "You're a good person now. Nothing else matters." 

Then, lastly, came Playmaker. Though Ryoken had feared to face him due to the insistence of his own pride and the realization of the consequences of his actions, he had done so. He'd apologized to Playmaker, apologizing for the things he'd done, the people he'd hurt who were important to Playmaker, and the repercussions of his actions. He'd lured Playmaker into becoming a victim, lured him into a down-spiral of despair, trauma, and tragedy. Then, he'd hurt all of Playmaker's allies, striking them down one-by-one until Playmaker stood, alone, isolated, deprived of all connections, on the battle field. After that, he'd cruelly become both Playmaker's enemy and his savior, a merciless juxtaposition of everything Playmaker hated and everything that Playmaker worshipped. 

"I forgive you," came Yusaku's reply, lone and distant.

"But do you forgive me," Ryoken says, "as your special person? Or as Revolver?"

"Both," Yusaku says, staring at Ryoken and holding his gaze firm. "I forgive my special person for plunging me into the same terror he saved me from. And, I forgive Revolver for destroying all my partners, for cruelly tearing my sense of reality down, and for trying to kill Ai."

"How?" He asks.

"Because you've changed, Ryoken," Yusaku responds, peering out into the world. Ryoken looks into that same world: Stardust Road, a place of meetings, beginnings, and endings. "You've become different. You've learned from your mistakes just as I've learned from mine. We've both changed, both for the better, and forgiveness awaits those who change their tune for something pure."

Ryoken can't help but offer a sigh and a smile. "Philosophy?"

"Maybe." Yusaku shrugs. "Take it as you want. Just know that I forgive you, more now than ever, and that I appreciate you for who you are as the person standing before me today."

"Have I really changed that much?"

"I think you have."

Ryoken looks out into the waters of an ocean sparkling with stars. He pauses, thinking, before closing his eyes, leaning against the rail and then opening them again as he says:

"I'm glad to hear that. Thank you, Yusaku."

The boy offers up a nod, not speaking, but the silence is enough to convey their atmosphere.

Forgiveness.

**Author's Note:**

> My more down-to-earth take on Datastorm. Granted, I don't think Ryoken will ever TRULY apologize for his actions to all the characters who AREN'T Yusaku he hurt but...it's wishful thinking...


End file.
